No Day But Today
by Irken PopTart
Summary: Post RENT NYTW Version MR Slash Mark musing
1. The Ending at the Beginning

(Wow, Surprise, the Invader Zim author is stepping out of her burnt closet to give you RENTfiction! Tramatizing isn't it? Well, reguardless, I give you NO real warning on this story, other than, it's going to offend you, make you upset, and send you screaming in shock. Before you all bitch me out, YES. I am evil. And, most of you will be going 'WTF' in later chapters, but to explain, this is set in the ORIGINAL Rent Verse... The New York Theater Workshop Production. Look up the lyrics if you want a good time. All characters are (C) Jonathan Larson. This is dedicated to my friends at the RENT RPG group, and my beloved Zack. Without further adu. I now butcher your faveorite musical.  
  
IPT )  
  
I can hear them all, surrounding me, talking amongst themselves.... Call his mother? Did you? How long has he been this way? Did he take his AZT...? Silly questions, of course I'd taken my AZT, he'd never let me go a day without it.... Why he worried so much, I'd never understand.  
  
Maureen is sitting at my bedside, clasping my hand in hers, trying to stop her tears, as she whispers to me, encouraging.... "Shhh, baby, don't worry, we'll get you some help...We'll get a doctor...." Doctor? Mo can be so dense sometimes I think, no doctor is going to help me...I'm dying...She's forgotten....? She tries to, I know.  
  
God, she's changed....Her concern is genuine, where once it could have been said that she'd only be playing such a card in attempts to elevate herself in the hearts and minds of our family....dwindling though it may be...  
  
The door...who's here now? ....Benny. Just Benny, suppose Muffy....Allison, is still snubbing me... He shakes his head, greets the others, and smiles weakly at me... The years have been harder on him than most of us would think...  
  
Everyone views Benny as some cold-hearted slumlord, looking only for his own benefit... But observation has proved that he's really trying...Yes, past years have proven that, he knows, he dreads, one might think paying for funerals will become a pastime.  
  
You can see the sadness in his smile, he knows he's lost our absoloute trust, he knows he's lost most our interest, and still, he fears loosing us all for good.... God it's hard to think...When did I become so introverted? If anyone knows, I'd appreciate being told.  
  
Songs are buzzing through my head....No day but today...And still everyone mourns what they loose, for days, months, even years. I'd laugh, but I can barely keep my eyes open at the moment.  
  
Was it that long ago...? Or such a short time ago...? I can't tell....Christmas...is it Christmas yet? I look around again in confusion, and Benny almost seems to want to burst into tears, he can't stand the expression....  
  
"...What month is it...? Today...Is..." I blink, surprised at how weak my voice sounds...It used to be so much stronger, so much more alert.... I move my eyes to the corner, where he sits watching, cradling the 16 millimeter camera... God that thing is ancient....And it's seen so much...My rise, my downfall, my love...It's seen entire lives.... His eyes watch me now, full of tears he refuses to shed yet...  
  
After catching my straying thoughts I look in confusion to Benny, then Mo... "Christmas...? Is it Christmas now?" Maureen chokes on a sob....  
  
"No Baby....No it's not Christmas... It's almost Easter...." I wrinkle my nose up, squinting in confusion, then looking indignant. "Then....why haven't I gotten any chocolate? I haven't seen so much as a jellybean...." Mo laughs weakly, Benny and Collins cast grins my way....He only watches me with his sad eyes... He knows I couldn't eat anything like that even if I wanted too....  
  
"Oh god baby....What are we ever going to do without you? How can we keep being us, without –you-?" I smile at Mo, shaking my head weakly as I close my eyes again, my head starting to swim. I can recall vividly the night so many Christmases ago, when everyone came together for the first time, as a family.... And echoing in my head is her indignant proclamation.... I start to laugh.  
  
Everyone is surprised by this...Maureen looks offended... She shakes her head angrily, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm SERIOUS! I don't know how you can laugh about this...I DON'T!" After a small bit of coughing I shake my head....  
  
"No Mo, I'm not...Not laughing about that...." I can feel a soft smile cross my lips... "...You'll get over it...." She lets out a sob, never letting go of my hand, I feel myself slipping out again....  
  
"Oh god....Oh god....You remember that? Mark...." 


	2. The 3D Imax of my MindNo one ever said t...

No Day But Today  
A RENT Fanfiction by IPT  
  
This story, focusing on the characters in a beloved musical, is dedicated to 4 young people.... Ali, Charlie, Chelsea, and Ashley. April, Maureen, Roger, and Mark respectively. May the first three always have love in their lives, and may I, always have the courage to love each of you.  
  
This story contains mature themes, suggestive matieriels, slash, and may cause some uproar...After all, in the Prolouge, I killed off the main character, now didn't I? Reguardless, This is based, as stated before, in the NYTW Production's universe. Please keep that in mind, and don't throw a fit when something differs from your view of the production.  
  
Moving along, I'd also like to say thank you to the people who have reviewed, This has more reviews than any of my IZ nonsense. I guess that's because RENTfans actually CARE about art, and story, instead of a quick fix of sex or violence... ...Not that this has no sex or violence, but...Shit. You get the point. Thanks guys, keep the reviews coming, they're inspring.  
  
Also. Abbey, Helena, and that girl who plays Jill, who's name I don't know...I love you guys. Tina, darling, I love you most, because YOU gave me my dream. A copy of the NYTW, which makes this possible. And as soon as I can sweetie, you'll have a copy of RENT yourself.  
  
I feel I've said enough, for the moment, though this is a far cry from what I originally intended it to be...I had made up some sappy short life-story... Psh. This again, is dedicated to my April. Wherever you are honey, just know I love you ok?  
  
IPT  
  
No Day But Today  
  
Zoom in On the 3D Imax of my Mind-...No-one ever used that line!  
  
{I should tell you I should tell you  
  
I should tell you I should tell you  
  
I should tell you I ... –Mark in the NYTW Production of "Christmas Bells" }  
  
Scene One- (The set is a small room, bare walls, hardwood floor, a small barstool sitting in it's center. A single spotlight focuses on this, and the objects that surround it. A camera lays atop it, a old guitar leans against it, Laying against this, is a pager, in a leopard print case, and a rusty needle. Off to the side, is a leather jacket, wrapped over a plastic pickle tub. Opposite this, is a small plush cow, which holds a cellphone. In front of the barstool, is a keychain, with several keys, appearing to be for both apartments, and vehicles.  
  
Atop the camera, laying loosely, is a red silk ribbon, which stretches down over the old sorry excuse for a chair, over the guitar, the pager, and the needle on one side, and the other, over the leather jacket and the makeshift 'drum'.  
  
Mark narrates. )  
  
You ever have one of those moments where your entire life flashes before your eyes, and suddenly you regret every stupid thing you've ever done, and wish you could go back and change everything....? ....Me neither.  
  
...What? Were you expecting some profound answer that would make you feel like your life should be changed? Sorry, I'm not very good at that whole profound thing...Sure I can try, but all I get is bad poetry.  
  
This, perhaps is why I don't write songs. I can give you something that IS profound, but I never said it... Hell, truth be told, I never even HEARD it said when it was....Just had it quoted too many times to count... Anyway... 'Your anger's real -- but just beware  
  
It's a waste to feel that fate's unfair. There's no such thing as tragedy, I can't resent what's meant to be.'  
  
It either pisses you off, or makes you smile...Either way, those few sentences make you think right? Here's something else... 'No day but today'. I could go on forever with that, but I'm also not the philosophy professor.  
  
Now, lets pan back on our scene, and fade out altogether. I'd give you some special effects, but I'm sorry, I don't have the sort of budget that most directors and producers do... But in this case, I'm not just in charge of observations...  
  
Zoom in on a small industrial loft, on the corner of 11th Street and Avenue B- We've all heard this one before huh? So really there's no need to continue describing it... To sum up what hasn't been said. ...The place looks like shit, is shit, and should be condemned.  
  
The place looks the same as you might remember, old posters, crappy extension cord, table, tiny kitchen... The residents acquired a couch that was probably as old as the three of them put together.  
  
Yes, three. It'd be nice if you could save your questions till the end...  
  
Focus on a scrawny sandy-haired blonde Jewish guy, who looks decidedly to be in a very awkward situation. Mostly because he's trying to clean his camera. A crappy 16 mm which by all rights shouldn't work anymore. That's not awkward? Well no, but watching his best friend, and his best friends girlfriend make out on the ratty looking green couch is.  
  
- "So, it's been ok...?" The blue eyes raise from their focus on the camera, to glance to the guitarist and his lover... No response... Strike one... "It's...a nice day...." Oh that was good. Strike two. "....Maureen and Joanne are thinking of adopting Benny." Not even a glance upward. Strike three...Conversation failed.  
  
How many times had it gone like this? Too many for his taste, but he wouldn't dare bring it up... What had it been now? A few months since Mimi's return...Moonstruck... Mark could only smile... What an odd way to revive.... He finished with his camera, regarded the two for a moment more, then stood, and pulled on his worn coat... "I'm going out... Be sure to eat something...." He paused... "Other than each other, ok?"  
  
And with that, Mark Cohen, maker of films that made no money, and sometimes no sense, was on his way down the streets of Alphabet City... He would film anything that seemed convenient today, as really, all he wanted to do was muse to himself...  
  
They were a family... Roger had moved in with Mimi for a while, but after that while, he and the young woman seemed to decide that they would do better living in the loft....Rent would be less, not that they ever paid...  
  
Looking at Mimi, at Roger, even at Collins, you could never think any of them would ever leave the home they had created within their small family.... Nothing could stand in the way of the young lovers. They lived by their own special philosophy, No regrets...No day but today... -  
  
Roger met Mimi on Christmas Eve. She was nineteen. Mimi Marquez never made it to twenty-one.  
  
Nice way to halt your happy little dream of perfection huh? Well, that's what happened. Two days....If she had held on for two more days, She would have made it.... But nothing could be done.  
  
Mimi's decline wasn't like Angel's, it wasn't slow and painful...One day she was their Mimi, the bright vibrant girl who always made them smile, who kept Roger on the trail of his dream... and the next day, she was just....gone.  
  
It was like she was never there. Benny came to the funeral....He and Roger exchanged such a look that Collins and I thought they would tear each other apart like animals at any moment.... Instead, Roger rested a hand on Benny's shoulder, and thanked him for his help.... Benny paid for the funeral. Benny seemed to pay for everything now that I look back on it...  
  
It began casually... After Angel's funeral, and Mimi's resurrection, things just happened to occur... Someone would make a mistake in the books... Some other tenant moved out, and had already paid for a months extra... The cost of the loft went down...Sometime after Mimi's death, bills stopped coming altogether.... Roger didn't care, I don't think he noticed...  
  
No electric, no water bills....  
  
I don't think any one of us ever thanked that man... Not that that would surprise anyone.  
  
Roger sank back slowly into his shell, working quietly with his guitar at all hours of the day and night... -I- can hum Musetta's Waltz backwards through a vocoder by now. I was always there, trying to get him out of the house, trying to get him to eat, take his medications....Sad to say there were a couple times I got fed up and just tossed him into the shower myself, dumped a bottle of shampoo over his head, threw some soap at him, and left him sitting there, confused, and stuck in wet clothes. This usually resulted in him hurling that bar of soap at my head.  
  
Maybe I deserved it....Maybe I should have used warm water. 


	3. Scene Two

Back again, and with more reviews! Thank you all very much for your comments, and Helena, thanks for your bitching. ^.- It's good to point out that I confuse people. I like it that way. Reguardless.  
  
Kelby, I appreciate your comments on my making Mark seem 'stronger', though, I think he IS played out as a stronger character in the NYTW at points in time, still whiney, certainly lovable...But one of his exchanges with Roger, goes along as this-  
  
MARK  
  
Mr. Negative, cuz he's HIV Positive!  
  
ROGER  
  
You can't know, give me some latitude  
  
MARK  
  
Maybe you're blocked because of that attitude  
  
His comments relating to April also make you think that he's more out there than we might think, if that makes the least bit of sense. Regardless. Something I'd like to mention, because Zack....my Lemming, brought it up. Benny. Benny is surprisingly underappreciated... At least in the OS production... He really is portrayed, pretty much as a complete ass... You get the notion in the Workshop however, that he may actually try to be helpful.  
  
Of course, everyone knows he paid for Angel's funeral. But in the NYTW version, there is this adorable song called 'Real Estate' which can be taken two ways... It can be looked at as Benny trying to use Mark- 'We could go to town, My savvy—your smile!' or actually, as Benny trying to get Mark on his feet.  
  
We look at it as if Benny really does want to help, he just doesn't know exactly how to make up for past mistakes, and he doesn't want to come off as soft perhaps... It's all up for interpretation I suppose.  
  
Same warnings as always in this chapter.  
  
No Day But Today  
  
How's your project?- - Good.   
  
( I talk in my sleep. But no one's there to listen –Mark in the NYTW Production "Real Estate" )  
  
Scene Two-  
  
(The set is the loft, empty and abandoned, seeming to gather dust and cobwebs. Lighting comes from a hole in the living room window, which is boarded up. Across the floor are scattered bits of paper, some with the delicate type of a machine, and some with small scrawling. These are the remnants of lyrics, and screenplays. Some of the scattered papers are actually burned at the edges.  
  
On the table, rests an old fender guitar, the strings long ago gone, some of the paint peeling, a chip in it's neck...Just out of it's reach, is an aging 16 mm camera, with a broken lens.  
  
Again, Mark narrates. )  
  
...My project... My project, the one I worked on for six years... the one that took me seven to finish? If I reflect, which I seem to do a lot of lately, then I can tell you that it wasn't the project I originally thought... It was finished... Today 4 U: Proof Positive... Was finished. But my project wasn't done yet...  
  
I guess I came to the realization after Mimi died, that in reality, my greatest project, my top concern, and my most important goal... Was Roger. We spent most our lives together, stuck like superglue and duct-tape since third grade.  
  
I don't think anyone ever noticed just how much I cared about Roger... They all shrugged it off, laughed about it, even teased that I was secretly pining away for him while he and Mimi were living it up...  
  
But I never pined. I just watched, I observed... I waited until I was needed I suppose...Because I cared. And I loved him. Surprised? You shouldn't be. I never was ashamed to admit it, if anyone asked... And we'd told each other we loved one another. It just wasn't a subject that seemed to be important.  
  
Roger got in trouble. Mark would help. Roger got sick. Mark took care of him. Roger ran away scared. Mark waited quietly at home, sitting by the phone, and accepted him back with open arms.  
  
Am I bitter? Do you think I should be? My world revolved around that musician. He controlled everything. But no, I'm not bitter... Because that's what love is you see...You aren't bitter, when you have to take care of someone you love, or help them through their troubles. And I never was. Sure it was upsetting sometimes, but everything is, isn't it?  
  
Pan out on our scene, while the lighting fades. When it returns again, it comes from an overhead light-bulb. Sitting on the table is Roger, tuning his guitar, a little ways from this, is Mark, perched on a chair, and 'filming' the musician.  
  
Of course, unknown to the other party, the camera has been out of film for two months. Money saved from not buying film, mysteriously turns up every so often in the spaces once used to hide and store Roger's stashes, and is thusly used to purchase AZT, which Mark is sure to see Roger take.  
  
- "Collins' said he might come by..." Silence. Roger tunes the guitar, playing a few stray notes, which sound as dead as Roger's eyes look... Mark lowers his own eyes, taking in a soft breath before he whispers, "It's scratchy...." Looking back to the song-writer, he flashes a somewhat hesitant grin... "Smile...?"  
  
Roger regards him almost bitterly for a moment, before casting the briefest hint of a smile, which quickly turns into a scowl. Mark sighs, and hops down off his chair, moving to sit opposite his companion on the table. "Rent is due in three days...." He offers gently... Roger just scowls again, looking away....  
  
"We won't pay, we never do."  
  
Mark closed his eyes, setting his camera down and silently wondering why they never moved to Williamsburg... As he gently kicks his feet, a thought occurs to him... "....Let me see it..." It's a question, and a statement all in one...  
  
Roger snaps his head up, raising a brow... "How bout no?" He tries not to roll his eyes when Mark puts on his patented 'I need a hug' face.  
  
"C'mon Roge...You know I won't do anything to hurt it...If I so much as get it out of tune, you can....um...Break the camera!" He offers helplessly... Roger actually smirks, resting his head against the neck of the guitar.  
  
"I'd rather break –you-... You realize your expendable right? I have no problems with causing you bodily harm..." Mark nodded quickly, a bright smile appearing on his face. Roger hesitated for a moment... True, he trusted Mark with his life....but he wasn't too sure if he trusted him with his guitar.  
  
Then again, he had handled Mark's camera more than once....Not that he had asked permission, more like he had snatched it up, and attempted to capture the filmmaker himself on film... Still...  
  
Sighing, Roger hopped down off the table, gently setting the guitar in Mark's arms... He stood back, watching as Mark cradled the instrument as if it were a newborn. He almost laughed when the filmmaker plucked one of the strings, and a note rang into the air... Mark gave a slight jump, his eyes wide, as he looked worriedly at Roger for a moment, wondering perhaps if he had damaged the precious guitar in any way... "Are you done yet...?" He asked, trying not to sound amused...  
  
"No..." Mark said softly, looking down at the old fender... He adjusted his hands, and tried another note...then another...and another... Roger stared, riveted to the spot as the notes began to form a tune... The hauntingly familiar sound filled the loft, played almost effortlessly.  
  
Looking up after the last note, Mark noticed the mixed look of horror, and rapture on Roger's face... "....Did...did I do it wrong...?" He asked softly. Roger gathered his wits slowly, and shook his head....  
  
"No...no...it was great....how did....where did you learn too...." He stopped his question, honestly afraid of the response he would receive... Mark's clear blue eyes seemed to stare through him as he gave his quiet reply...  
  
"...from you...." Roger took a step back, shaking his head, before he turned, and walked quickly into his room, closing the door behind him, Musetta's Waltz echoing in his ears....  
  
Mark gazed quietly down at the guitar, and tried a note once again... But it didn't do anything for him...He stood, and placed the guitar gently on the table, before grabbing his coat from the couch, and quietly moving to the door... "...I'm going for a walk...I'll be back..." He called out, never expecting a reply...  
  
As the door shut, the light-bulb overhead flickered, swinging slightly from it's string, casting shadows over the papers that littered the floor, and then light on the table... With the guitar, just out of the camera's reach.  
  
- When you talk, you expect people to listen right? It's an understandable expectation... Maybe that's why I narrate for my films...Because if my words are recorded, then eventually, maybe someone will hear them. Pipe dream of mine I guess...  
  
When you try to tell someone something, so vital and important... Like that Halloween, when Angel left us, and Roger was leaving... I told him that I hid in my work... My final reason for this, was 'The fact I live a lie.'  
  
He thought I was referring to my film I guess... He told me that day, that I was the one with the talent, the drive... That I was the one to survive.... I'm still not sure to this day whether or not he caught the sadness when I told him 'I know.' ...I told him I feared the burden would make me crack. He said if I let him know, he'd come back...  
  
I did...And he did... But still I can hear his response...Why was it easier to return to a friend, then to burn with a lover until the end...? Because...There's not as much to loose... I never felt so helpless and abandoned in my entire life.  
  
Roger needed Mimi....Mimi needed Roger.... They loved each other... True, they had just as many fights as Mo and Joanne... but the love was still there... That's why I was willing to sell my camera.... Mimi made Roger happy.... And back then....back before anyone heard me...I couldn't make him happy...I could only take care of him.  
  
And that's what Mimi told me to do... She gave me that beautiful smile... Just before she went to bed that night, and told me to take care of Roger, she was tired, and she needed to rest for a while... She said she'd talk with me some other time...And asked if perhaps tomorrow, we all might go and visit Angel...  
  
I gave her my trademark grin, and nodded... She asked if I would bring the camera... Of course I would.... Mimi blew me a kiss, and went to lay down... She went to visit Angel much sooner than the rest of us... It was two days before her birthday.  
  
...I think she and Angel had one hell of a party. 


	4. Do what it does We’ll go where

And abruptly moving straight into the next chapter, I'd like to thank everyone again for their thoughts and reviews... Shout-Out to Helena who provided ideas and inspiration for the last chapter through an RP, and to Lyn, who, though she's never SEEN or heard RENT, likes my story anyway. WOO!  
  
More stuff happening in this chapter, going into the actual slashiness, at least a vauge idea of such. If I get anything hideously wrong in the way of life-facts, let me know, and I'll try to fix it, otherwise, sit back and enjoy! Possible Angst, and lack of angst warnings!  
  
No Day But Today  
  
Do what it does. We'll go where,  
  
"If we do not change our direction we are likely to end up where we are heading." –Random Quote taken from a screen saver  
  
Scene Three-  
  
(Black Screen, sound filters in gradually, muttered voices, gradually the level of sound raises, giving the illusion of getting closer...  
  
Dialogue, Voices belong to Mark and Roger.  
  
Mark sounds snide, accusatory- "Mr. Negative, cuz he's HIV Positive!"  
  
Roger protests- "You can't know, give me some latitude"  
  
Mark responds, almost seeming helpful- "Maybe you're blocked because of that attitude..."  
  
Roger, indignant- "I doubt you'd be so brave, Hell, you're scared to see your ex!"  
  
Mark, sounding at a loss- "I'm a chicken shit, A hypocrite -- I admit."  
  
Roger almost laughs- "I rest my case."  
  
The sound fades out, the light fades in on our set, an empty waiting room. Stark white walls, white tile, hard plastic chairs, a couple tables with magazines that are no less than 8 years old, and some over-produced artwork on the walls. View of the front desk, sitting on top of a clipboard is a set of keys.  
  
Pan out to a chair, closest to the desk, a blue and white scarf is draped over the chair, while in it's center rests a pair of glasses with squared off frames, and a cracked lens. Quick zoom in, until the clipboard fills the screen.  
  
In bold black text is the first line. PATIENT NAME: Written in a delicate scrawl, in bold red ink, is the name, 'Mark Cohen'.  
  
Cut Scene,  
  
Mark Narrates, as we gain a view of Alphabet City.)  
  
Fate is a trivial thing. Some people will tell you, that it can't be controlled, others will say that you can alter every part of your life...You have control. Sometimes you may wonder exactly why that would matter at all.  
  
Did you know that my life was changed, completely altered for $3.65. Yup. Exactly three dollars and sixty-five cents... I guess my coat wasn't worth it.  
  
Move into focus, on some poor soul, quietly walking down the streets of New York...It's not but early evening, when said figure is more or less chased into an alleyway, just out of sight. Scene flickers, then fades, and we move to the loft, exactly three months after Mark's brief attempt at being a rock star.  
  
- "God –damnit-!"  
  
Roger looked up from his guitar, as always, perched on the table in the middle of the living room... "That was quick..." He's met with a scathing glare from Mark, who looks decidedly dishelved, his glasses crooked on his face, the left lens cracked. "...What the hell happened to you? Get in-between a cat-fight with Maureen and Joanne?"  
  
Mark just scowled, slumping down into the only chair in the loft, looking exaughsted. "I got mugged. After all this time, and they choose NOW to beat the shit out of me....I can't afford to replace these glasses..."  
  
Roger raised a brow, trying to mask his amusement... "Poor baby." After a moment he relents, and sets his guitar down, moving over to look down at Mark, before he kneels. "You allright...?"  
  
"Oh yeah, it was great, reminded me of my grade-school days, I-..." He trailed off as Roger took his face in his hands, turning his head to make sure.... A deep frown appeared on the musician's face...  
  
"That's gonna be one hell of a shiner Mark...." Mark didn't respond, as Roger turned his head back, still holding him there... The filmmakers clear blue eyes were set on the hazel ones of his best friend...  
  
It wasn't one or the other...It was one of those mutual understandings... Everything else was suddenly gone, and no thought was on either mind but one... Simultaneously, Mark leaned in, and Roger tilted his head up to meet him, their lips brushing together in a gentle kiss, that simply continued for a variable eternity, deepening only slightly, before both quietly pulled back, breathless.  
  
The world came hurtling back, and Roger jerked himself away, while Mark remained in a vague daze... He could barely hear Roger's rushed apology, and the slam of his bedroom door. A length of time past, before tentively Mark reached up to brush his fingertips across his lips, where he swore he could still taste the musician.... As he pulled his hand back, gazing quietly at his fingertips, he struggled, loosing to a sad smile.  
  
Laughing up at him with accusation, against the pale near-white of his skin, was a glistening drop of red. For three sixty-five, and a kiss, Mark Cohen had sold his future. In return...the filmmaker gained his life.  
  
- I don't think Roger ever noticed it....Not during, not after, I don't think he ever knew I was bleeding, and I know I never did.... I remember that day, that I had quietly stood, and with a surprising calm, one no-one else thought I should have had, went to the phone, calling the one person I know no-one would have expected me to call. Benny.  
  
I explained quietly, not wanting to stir any more reactions up from Roger, than I had been mugged, and I needed his help...I needed a ride to the clinic, so I could be tested... I didn't want Roger to know, and worry about it, because it had been such a short time ago that Mimi had left us.  
  
It takes a while for results to get back to you...People agonize over the days that they wait, regretting things, being angry, cursing fate.... Gradually Collins found out, and he and Benny began to try and pull me out of my depression....Which I never went into...  
  
Roger watched me like a hawk for several days, terrified I'd do something stupid...Overdose like April did... I don't care to think about the thoughts that may have gone through his head... Eventually, he actually began to speak to me again... I think the fact that I wasn't blaming him for anything, and that I didn't seem worried, calmed him...  
  
Collins told me it was allright to cry, to let things out... But I'd only smile at him and shake my head, keeping myself busy, making sure Roger took his AZT, helping Maureen with her latest protest... It was something about the world becoming a giant automated-teller-machine... I never did understand what an ATM has to do with a rabbit wearing mouse-ears...  
  
Roger's dosage was increased, but we were all assured that he was doing remarkably well, and would continue to do so as long as he continued with his medication. Benny took me back to the clinic for my scheduled appointment, and stayed back at the loft with us for a few hours when we got back. - "Anyone want some tea...?" Collins and Benny raised their eyes to Mark, while Roger continued to fiddle with his guitar... The landlord and professor exchanged glances, nither one knowing the end results of Mark's testing...  
  
Collins followed Mark silently into the kitchen, as the film-maker began to brew one of his favorite herbal tea's. "...How'd it go...?" He asked softly... The sound of the guitar became quieter, and Collins knew that the two occupants of the living room were listening intently...  
  
Mark blinked up at Collins, casting him a smile. "Just fine, do you want honey in yours...?" Collins blinked, reguarding the smaller man carefully...  
  
"...No thank you....So...Your not positive?" Mark glanced back at him again, continuing with his tea.  
  
"Oh no, I am." He stated simply....both men looked back to the living room as Roger's door was slammed shut. 


End file.
